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THE LITTLE INDIAN 


THE 


LITTLE COUSIN SERIES, 

By Mary Hazelton Wade, 
UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME, 


The Little Japanese Girl. 
The Little Russian. 

The Little Indian. 

The Little Brown Boy. 
The Little Eskimo. 

The Little African. 


London : 

WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED. 


























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The Little Indian] 


YELLOW THUNDER 


[Frontispiece 









THE 


LITTLE INDIAN. 


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MAR V"-Ttz>^ETO!ff WADE. 

A ✓* 


ILLUSTRATED BY L. J. BRIDGMAN. 



LONDON: 

WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED, 

NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE. 


1903. 







CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER 


PAGE 


I. Little Yellow Thunder * 9 

II. Inside Yellow Thunder’s Home . 13 

III. An Indian Father . . . .19 

IV. A Little Indian’s Food and Clothes 28 

V. Twelve Years Old . . . .33 

VI. What an Indian Believes . . 38 

VII. His Schooling. 45 

VIII. His Work. 51 

IX Bows and Arrows, and Beavers . 57 

X. A Beaver Hunt.62 

XI. The Indian Doctor . . . ‘67 

XII. Dances—War, and Otherwise . . 72 

XIII. Playtime. 77 

XIV. Festivals .83 

XV. The Tale of Lone Lightning , . 92 














LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

Yellow Thunder ( Frontispiece) 

She Swings on the Branch of a Tree . 17 

He will Give his Son Wise Words of 
Counsel . . . . -34 

He Shoots Down the River . . .56 

His Wife is Standing in the Door of the 
Wigwam . . . . -65 

They .... Danced in every Hut in the 
Village , . . . . 87 





/ 

•« 






THE LITTLE INDIAN, 


CHAPTER I. 

Little Yellow Thunder. 

They call him Yellow Thunder. Do not 
be afraid of your little cousin because he 
bears such a terrible name. It is not his 
fault, I assure you. His grandmother had 
a dream the night he was born. She be¬ 
lieved the Great Spirit, as the Indians call 
our Heavenly Father, sent this to her. In 
the dream she saw the heavens in a great 
storm. Lightning flashed and she constantly 
heard the roar of thunder. When she awoke 
in the morning she said, “ My first grand¬ 
son must be called ‘ Yellow Thunder.' ” 
And Yellow Thunder became his name. 


9 












10 


THE LITTLE INDIAN. 


But his loving mamma does not generally 
call him this. When he is a good boy and 
she is pleased with him, she says, “ My 
bird.” If he is naughty, for once in a great 
while this happens, she calls him “ bad 
boy.” 

For some reason I don’t understand my¬ 
self, she rarely speaks his real name. Per¬ 
haps it is sacred to her, since she believes 
it was directed by the Great Spirit. 

Yellow Thunder lives in the forests of 

North America. His skin is a dull, smoky 

• • 

red, his eyes are black and very bright, 
his hair is black and coarse. His body is 
straight and well formed. He can run 
through the woods as quickly and softly 
as a deer. He lives in a bark house made 
by his mother. His father is strong and 
well, yet he did not help in building it. He 
thinks such work is not for men. It is 
fit only for women. 


LITTLE YELLOW THUNDER. n 

When I tell you how it is made, you will 
not think it is very hard work. Yellow 
Thunder’s patient mamma chose the place 
for her home, and then gathered some long 
poles in the forest. She set these poles 
in a circle in the ground, bent them over 
at the top, and tied them. She left a small 
hole at the top. The framework of the 
house was now complete. What should she 
have for a covering ? She went out once 
more into the woods and got some long 
sheets of .white birch bark. At the end 
of each sheet she fastened a rim of cedar 
wood. The sheets of bark were hung on 
the framework, with the rim at the bottom 
of each one, and the house was finished. 
The rim would be useful in keeping the 
bark from being lifted by the winds. But, 
if there should be a severe storm, the 
Indian woman would lay stones on the rims 
to keep the bark down more firmly still. 


12 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

This is Yellow Thunder’s simple home, 
summer and winter. You would probably 
freeze there in the cold days of December, 
but the Indian boy was brought up to 
endure a great deal of cold. 


■V 


CHAPTER II. 

Inside Yellow Thunder’s Home. 

Let us look inside. We must first lift 

the deerskin which hangs in the doorway. 

Does the family sit on the cold, bare ground, 

do you think ? Oh, no; Yellow Thunder 

has helped his mamma make good thick 

rugs out of the bullrushes and flags which 

they gather every autumn. These rugs are 

very pretty, for they are woven and dyed 

with the bright colours the Indian women 

know T how to make. There are many 

of these mats, because they are used for 

many purposes. Yellow Thunder sleeps on 

one of them at night. In the day-time he 

13 


THE LITTLE INDIAN. 


*4 

sits on a mat whenever he is in the house. 
But he is such a strong lad, he is out-of- 
doors nearly all the time, both in sunshine 
and in storm. 

In the middle of the house you will notice 
there is a bare spot covered with clean sand. 
This is the place where the fire is made. It 
is carefully swept when there is no fire. If 
you look directly over the fireplace, you 
can see the sky. On rainy days, unless 
the mother is cooking, she keeps the hole 
covered with a piece of deerskin, that the 
inside of the house may be dry. 

But how does she prepare the food for 
breakfast, for that is the principal meal of 
the day to the Indian ? A strong hook is 
fastened in the framework of the house, 
above the fireplace. The Indian mother 
hangs a pot on the hook, puts in the meat 
or fish, and it boils quickly over the burning 
twigs which her little boy has gathered. 


INSIDE YELLOW THUNDER’S HOME. 15 

Let us look around the wigwam. Of 
course, you have long ago heard that name 
for the Indian's house. What beautiful 
baskets of rushes those are! I wonder 
how the red men discovered the way of 
making such beautiful colours. Besides 
many other things, the jewellery and clothing 
of the whole family are kept in these bas¬ 
kets. Look up at the sides of the hut and 
notice the bows and arrows. And, yes! 
there is a real tomahawk, with its sharp 
edge sticking in that corner. Ears of corn 
braided together are hanging from the 
framework. 

But the prettiest thing we see is the 
baby's cradle, fastened to a peg. Two 
bright black eyes are looking out of it, 
and that is all we can see of Yellow Thun¬ 
der's baby sister, “ Woman of the Moun¬ 
tain." It took the loving mother a long 
time to make that cradle. She was very 


16 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

happy while doing it, for she loves her baby 
tenderly. 

It is hardly right to call it a cradle. 
Baby-frame is a better name. It was made 
in three pieces, out of the wood of the maple- 
tree—a straight board about two feet long 
for the bottom, a carved foot-board, and 
a bow which is fastened to the sides and 
arches over the baby’s head. These are 
all bound together with the sinews of a deer. 
It is lined with moss, and then Woman 
of the Mountain is fastened in her queer 

little bed with straps, which her mamma 

» 

has made beautiful with bead-work. Moss 
is placed between her feet, her hands are 
bound at her side, her feet are bound down 
also, and a beaded coverlet is placed over 
her tiny body. She looks like a little 
mummy. 

If it is stormy she is hung up on a peg 
in the hut to swing, but if it is a pleasant 





“she swings on the branch of a tree.” 

The Little Indian'] 


[Page 17 











INSIDE YELLOW THUNDER’S HOME. 17 

day, she swings on the branch of a tree and 
watches the leaves flutter and the birds sing. 
She is a happy little baby, although you 
would hardly think it possible. She got 
used to her imprisonment almost as soon 
as she was born. She doubtless thinks it 
is all right. 

When mamma goes out into the forest to 
gather wood, or into the corn-field to work, 
Woman of the Mountain goes too. The 
baby-frame is fastened on her mother’s back 
by a pretty beaded strap bound over the 
woman’s forehead. 

When the Indian baby was only two 
days old, she was fastened into her cradle 
and carried all day on mamma’s back while 
she was weeding the garden. To be sure, 
the woman stopped two or three times to 
feed her baby, but the little thing was not 
once taken out of her frame. 

Perhaps you would like to hear a lullaby 


iS THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

the Indian mamma often sings to her little 
one as she swings in her frame. I fear 
you could not understand the Indian words, 
so I will give them as Mrs. Elizabeth Oakes 
Smith wrote them in English : 

“ Swinging, swinging, lul la by, 

Sleep, little daughter, sleep, 

Tis your mother watching by, 

Swinging, swinging, she will keep, 

Little daughter, lul la by. 

“ Tis your mother, loves you, dearest, 

Sleep, sleep, daughter sleep, 

Swinging, swinging, ever nearest, 

Baby, baby, do not weep ; 

Little daughter, lul la by, 

“ Swinging, swinging, lul la by, 

Sleep, sleep, little one, 

And thy mother will be nigh— 

Swing, swing, not alone— 

Little daughter, lul la by.” 

You can understand from this how dearly 
the Indian mother loves her baby—just as 
dearly, I do not doubt, as your own mamma 
has always loved and cared for vou. 


CHAPTER III. 


An Indian Father. 

But what is Yellow Thunder’s stern¬ 
looking father doing all the time ? He 
has no shop to keep, no mill to grind, no 
factory to work in. There are only three 
things which deserve his attention. At 
least that is what he thinks. He hunts 
or fishes, goes to war, and holds councils 
with the men of his tribe. Everything else 
he believes is woman’s work, and from the 
Indian’s standpoint, woman is much be¬ 
neath a man. 

After all, the men’s work is really the 
hardest. Sometimes it is easy for them to 


20 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

find plenty of food. Then Yellow Thun¬ 
der’s father comes home rejoicing with the 
big load he carries. Perhaps he has a red 
deer hanging over his shoulder; perhaps 
it is a bear which he has chased many miles 
before he could get near enough to kill it; 
or it may be some raccoons for a delicious 
stew 

But, again, it may be stormy weather. 
The rivers are frozen over and snow covers 
the ground. Then, perhaps, the hunter 
has little success with his bow and arrow, 
and searches long and far before he can 
find anything to satisfy his children’s hunger. 
He feels sad, but not for a moment does 
he think of complaining or giving up. It 
is his duty to obtain food for his family. 
It does not matter how cold he gets or how 
wet he may be. He keeps travelling on¬ 
ward. He will not give up. If he does 
not at last get enough for all, he will insist 


AN INDIAN FATHER. 21 

on his wife and children satisfying their 
hunger first. He would scorn to show that 
he himself is tired, or hungry, or suffering 
in any way. 

We can understand now why the Indian 
baby is pinned down in its cradle and not 
allowed to move freely. It is its first 
lesson in endurance. It must learn to be 
uncomfortable and not to show that it is 
so. It must learn to bear pain, and neither 
cry nor pucker its mouth. It must learn 
to appear calm, no matter how it feels. 

The hunt is pleasant sometimes, you see, 
but at others it is work of the hardest kind. 

The second duty of the red boy’s father 
is war. He must protect his home from 
human and wild beast enemies. But I’m 
really afraid that it is a pleasure for him 
to fight. If Indians had not been at war 
so much among themselves, it would have 
been far harder for the white people to 


22 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

conquer them. I suppose you children 
have all heard the story of the bundle of 
sticks, but I will repeat it. 

A certain man was about to die. He 

gathered his sons around him to give them 

* 

good advice. He showed them some sticks 
fastened tightly together. Then he asked 
each one to try to break the bundle. No 
one could do it. When he saw that they 
failed, he separated the sticks, and showed 
them how easy it was to break each one 
by itself. 

“ Take a lesson from this,” said the man. 
“ If you are united and work together, you 
will succeed in anything you undertake, 
for no one can break your strength. If, 
however, you quarrel among yourselves and 
try to work each for himself, you will be 
like the separate twigs—easily broken.” 

It has been like this with the Indians. 
They have fought against each other, tribe 



AN INDIAN FATHER. 23 

with tribe. They are very brave and have 
great courage. But they have not under¬ 
stood that they should work together. So 
the white man came and was able to con¬ 
quer them. 

Besides hunting and going to war, Yellow 
Thunder’s papa is often busy in the council. 
All matters of business are settled here. 
New chiefs are chosen at the council; 
wrong-doers are punished according to what 
it decides, and treaties with other tribes 
or the white men are talked over and agreed 
upon. Sometimes a council will last many 
days. It is always opened with a prayer 
to the Great Spirit, thanking Him for his 
good gifts to the people. Each evening, 
after the business of the council is over, 
games are played by old and young. It 
is a time for- feasting and pleasure. No 
business with other people is really settled 
by a council without gifts of wampum to 


24 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

bind the bargain. Of course, you have 
heard about wampum. Perhaps you have 
been told it is the Indian’s money. There 
are two kinds of wampum. One is purple 
and the other white. The white wampum 
is shaped into beads out of the inside of 
large conch shells, while the purple is made 
from the inside of the mussel shell. These 
beads are strung on deer’s sinews and woven 
into belts. A belt of white wampum is 
a seal of friendship between two tribes. 
It is the same as a sacred promise which 
must not be broken. It is the most precious 
of all things an Indian owns. 

Yellow Thunder’s father is very fond of 
tobacco. He always carries a beaded pouch 
filled with it. He believes that the Great 
Spirit gave tobacco to the Indian. When 
he smokes it, it opens a way through which 
he may draw near God, and be taught by 
him. Llis pipe and tobacco will be buried 


AN INDIAN FATHER. 25 

with him when he dies, as he thinks they 
will be needed on his journey toward heaven. 
He smokes at the council. He smokes 
around the camp-fire when he is away 
hunting. He smokes in the evening time 
as he sits with his friends and tells stories 
of the chase or listens to legends of his 
people. 

I hardly know what this Indian father 
would do without his pipe, as it seems 
to give him so much comfort and 
pleasure. 

See ! here he comes now. Yellow Thun¬ 
der is at the door of the lodge, watching 
him as he walks quickly down the forest 
path. He is truly called a “ brave.” He 
looks as though he would fear no danger. 
How straight is his body, and how strong 
are his muscles ! 

He wears leggings of deerskin, finely 
worked with beads. They are fastened just 


26 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

above his knees. A short kilt is gathered 
around his waist. It is also made of deer¬ 
skin, but is worked around the edge with 
porcupine quills stained in several colours. 
It is bitterly cold to-day, so he wears a 
blanket over his shoulders. His head is 
shaved bare, excepting the scalp-lock at 
the back. It must be this which makes 
him look so fierce. 

I want you to notice his feet. They step 
softly and yet firmly. You could not walk 
as he does. Perhaps you have pointed 
shoes with high heels. The Indian would 
look with scorn upon these. What ! Cramp 
the toes with such uncomfortable things ! 
Impossible ! He covers his feet in the most 
sensible manner with the soft buckskin shoe 
made by his wife. They are called mocca¬ 
sins, and fit his feet exactly. He can run 
like a deer, or creep along the ground like 
a wild-cat in these coverings, and no one 


AN INDIAN FATHER. 


27 

will hear him coming. Each moccasin is 
made of a single piece of deerskin, seamed 
at the heel and in front. The bottom is 
smooth and without a seam, while the 
upper part is worked with beads. 


CHAPTER IV. 

A Little Indian’s Food and Clothes. 

Yellow Thunder’s good mamma uses a 
curious needle and thread. The needle is 
made from the bone of a deer’s ankle, and 
her thread is of the sinews of the same 
animal. What would the Indian have done 
without the deer in the old days before 
the white man came to his country ? I 
can’t imagine, can you ? 

This animal furnished much of his food 
and clothing; ornaments w T ere made of 
his hoofs ; needles and many other things 
came from his bones. Even the brains of 
the creature were used in tanning skins of 
animals. They were mixed with moss, made 

28 


FOOD AND CLOTHES. 29 

into cakes, and dried in the sun. This 
mixture will keep a great length of time. 
Whenever it is needed, a piece of this brain- 
cake is boiled in water, and the skin is soaked 
in it after the hair is scraped off. Then 
it is wrung out and stretched until it is 
dry. But even then the skin is not ready 
for use. It will tear very easily. It must 
be thoroughly smoked on both sides. This 
work all belongs to Yellow Thunder’s 
mamma. His father has nothing to do 
with it. 

Suppose we follow the red man into his 
home ! Ugh. What a smoke there is in¬ 
side ! We can hardly see across the wig¬ 
wam. We shall need to lie down on the 
mat as the Indian does. Our eyes will be 
blinded unless we do this. The wife has 
a good meal waiting for her husband, but 
she will not eat till he has finished. That 
is Indian good manners. 


30 


THE LITTLE INDIAN. 


His wooden bowl and plate, together with 
a boiled corn-cake, are placed on the mat 
in front of the man. Venison stew is served 
him out of the big pot, and a dish of tea 
made from a plant called sassafras, which 
grows in his country, is also set before him. 
There is no milk to put into this queer 
drink, but if he wishes to sweeten it, he 
can add some delicious syrup that is ob¬ 
tained from a tree growing in North America, 
and called the maple. This is certainly 
not a bad meal for anyone. 

The red man eats and drinks, while 
scarcely a word is said to his waiting family. 
When he has finished his meal, he will light 
his pipe for a quiet smoke, after which his 
wife and child satisfy their hunger. 

Yellow Thunder’s mamma knows how to 
prepare many a good dish. She can make 
several different kinds of corn bread. She 
prepares soups of deer and bear meat. She 


FOOD AND CLOTHES. 31 

boils the Indian corn flour, on which our 
little red cousin pours the maple syrup. 
She makes teas of wild spices and herbs 
which grow near the hut. But these drinks 
are not likely to keep Yellow Thunder 
awake at night. Neither is there danger 
of his starving, so long as his father can 
hunt and his mother can gather her crops. 
His food is suited to make him strong and 
healthy, and he does not miss the dainties 
of which you are so fond. 

The stern-looking father never thinks of 
interfering in the management of the home. 
That is his wife’s right. She gives him his 
sleeping-place and the corner in which he 
shall put his belongings. She decides on 
what shall be cooked, and what shall be 
stored away. She is the ruler in the home. 

But, on the other hand, he does not ex¬ 
pect her to scold. She should always be 
obliging and happy in entertaining his 


32 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

friends. She should be ready to furnish 
him with a good meal whenever he comes 
home. 

As yet, he does not take much notice of 
his only son. He does not correct the 
boy’s faults. He seldom takes him on his 
hunts. He has left all care of the boy to 
his wife up to this time. 


CHAPTER V. 

Twelve Years Old 

But Yellow Thunder is now twelve years 

old. He will soon be a man. In a year or 

two, at most, his father will begin to make 

a companion of his son in hunting and 

fishing. He will teach him the ways of a 

brave Indian warrior. Then there will be 

no more woman’s work for Yellow Thunder. 

When the time comes for this great change 

in his life, he will go out into the forest to 

fast. No one will insist on his doing this. 

He will himself desire it. It is the same 

as a baptism to a young Indian. His father 

will go with him to the lonely spot where 

he decides to stay. He will give his son 

33 c 


34 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

wise words of counsel. He will urge him 
to be brave and keep his fast as long as 
possible. He will be able to show by this 
how much courage and spirit he possesses, 
and how great a man he desires to be. Then 
he will leave his son alone and go back to 
the village. 

A day passes by, and Yellow Thunder 
grows faint. Two days are now gone, and 
the boy’s thirst is intense. At the end of 
three days his father comes back and finds 
his son lying weak and dizzy beneath the 
trees. He gives him a little water, but no 
food, for Yellow Thunder says he can fast 
still longer. 

The father goes away again, leaving the 
son to watch for the visions which will 
surely come. It will be decided now what 
the red boy’s future will be. The longer 
he' can fast, the greater man he will become 
among his people. No one can be a chief 



cs HE WILL GIVE HIS SON WISE WORDS OF COUNSEL. 

The Little Indian'] [Page 34' 














TWELVE YEARS OLD. 35 

unless he has fasted many days at the be¬ 
ginning of his manhood. 

We cannot tell what Yellow Thunder 
will be, but we know that his visions will 
always be remembered. He believes that 
his guardian spirits will appear in some 
form or another to him, and he will get 
instruction about his future life. He will 
endure his fast bravely as long as possible. 

It sometimes happens that Indian boys 
die at this time of fasting, but we feel sure 
that Yellow Thunder will live and be a joy 
to his parents to the end of their lives. 
But how is the Indian mother preparing 
him for this great test ? She teaches him, 
first of all, to obey. In no other way would 
it be possible for him to become a great 
man. He must heed everything that his 
father and mother tell him. He must al¬ 
ways be ready to do their bidding. It is 
the greatest token of rudeness to appear 


36 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

curious, therefore he must ask no questions. 
He must love the truth. A lie is almost 
unknown among the Indians; they scorn 
it as the mark of a cowardly and mean 
nature. He must be brotherly to all crea¬ 
tures, and ready to give to others always. 

Yellow Thunder has never seen a pauper 
or beggar in his life. Whenever anyone 
comes to his home, his mother hastens at 
once to prepare food for the visitor. It is 
almost a law to her to do so. If relatives 
should come for a visit, they will be made 
welcome and allowed to stay as long as they 
desire. If they should remain for the rest 
of their lives, they would never be asked 
to leave. “ Be hospitable to all” is a 
maxim planted in the heart of every Indian 
child. 

Yellow Thunder is taught that everything 
should be shared in common. The Indian 
does not say, “ My land.” It is always 


TWELVE YEARS OLD. 


37 


“ Ours.” The people of a tribe are truly 

brothers to each other. 

The red boy’s mamma does not need to 

teach him that theft is wrong. It is almost 

unknown among his people. The idea of 

doing such an unbrotherly thing does not 

enter their heads. No wonder there are 

neither poorhouses nor prisons among these 

people. We call them savages, but there 

are many things we could copy with profit 

from them. Don’t you think so, children ? 

“ Live and learn ” is an old saying, and I 

think we would do well to remember it 
when we read the lives of our cousins in 

many lands. 


CHAPTER VI. 

What an Indian Believes. 

Yellow Thunder does not go to church 
or Sunday School. I doubt if Sunday is 
any different to him from any other day. 
But his mamma has taught him that there 
is one loving Heavenly Father for all. If 
Yellow Thunder is good and brave, he will 
go to the “ happy hunting-grounds ” when 
he dies. At least, this is what he is taught 
to believe. There will be enough food and 
an abundance of animals to kill. Every¬ 
thing that the Indian loves best to do in 
this life, he thinks can be found in his 
heaven. But there is no place there for 
the white man. 


33 


WHAT AN INDIAN BELIEVES. 


39 

Yellow Thunder’s mother often tells him 
of a prophecy which was made long ago 
by the wise men of her tribe. They said 
that a great monster, with white eyes^ 
would come out of the East and consume 
the land. Did the prophecy come true, 
you ask ? Yes, my dears, it was the white 
race. 

When Yellow Thunder thinks of the 
great forests which his people once owned, 
and of the numbers of animals roaming 
there, when he remembers the wars which 
have been fought and lost with the “ great 
monster,” his heart grows bitter. 

Don’t blame him, children, but feel sorry 
for your little Indian cousin. His people 
have certainly had a hard time. They have 
been very cruel in warfare with the white 
races, but they felt they were treated un¬ 
justly, and that the white men were taking 
their homes away from them. 


40 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

Yellow Thunder believes in the Great 
Father, as I have told you. His mother 
has also taught him that there are many 
spirits, both good and bad. God made the 
good spirits to help him in his care of this 
great world. The Indian believes that the 
wind is a spirit of great power. The thun¬ 
der is another spirit, whom he calls Heno. 
Heno makes the clouds and the rain. It 
is he who forms the thunderbolt and sends 
it to destroy the wicked. 

The Great Spirit is very kind to 
give men such a helper, and when 
the harvest time comes, Yellow Thunder 
gives Him thanks and prays to Him 
that He will continue to send Heno into 
the world. 

There is an old legend among the Indians 
that Heno once dwelt in a cave behind 
Niagara Falls. The mighty rushing noise 
of the water was pleasing to him. 


WHAT AN INDIAN BELIEVES. 41 

Yellow Thunder pictures the Spirit of 
the Winds to himself. This spirit has the 
face of an old man who is always in the 
midst of discord, for the four winds are 
never at peace with each other. 

Then there are the spirits of Corn, of 
Beans, and of a fruit called Squash, which 
is rather like a pumpkin. Each one of these 
is looked upon as a friend of the red race, 
for these vegetables are prized by them 
above all others. 

It is believed that these spirits have the 
forms of beautiful women, and that they 
dwell happily together and are very fond 
of each other. 

There are many other good spirits. The 
red boy feels their presence in the forests 
and out upon the waters. They are ever 
around him to protect him when he is good. 
But, if he should be bad ? Ah! There 
are many evil spirits, too, who are only 


42 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

too ready to work mischief and harm among 
men, if they have the chance. 

Yellow Thunder believes that animals 
have souls, only they are not as wise as 
men. Sometimes, when they have done 
great wrongs, men have been changed into 
animals. Our cousin thinks the wolf was 
once a little boy like himself, but the poor 
little fellow was neglected by his parents, 
and was transformed into an animal. The 
raccoon was once a shell on the seashore. 
What curious ideas these are ! Where do 
you suppose they came from before they 
lived in the minds of the red race ? 

While we are speaking of these things, 
I will stop and tell you of something that 
happened at Yellow Thunder’s house the 
other day. His father, Black Cloud, came 
home from the hunt bringing a big black 
bear. It was so heavy that two other men 
had to help in carrying it. They had dis- 


WHAT AN INDIAN BELIEVES. 


43 

covered the creature in a hollow tree and 
had easily killed it. But now comes the 
amusing part of the story. As soon as the 
bear was laid down in front of the hut, 
Yellow Thunder and his mamma went up 
to it and began to kiss and stroke the dead 
animal’s head. Black Cloud did the same, 
and then they all begged the bear’s pardon 
for having killed it. Black Cloud said, 
“ I would not have done so, had we not 
needed food, so I know you will forgive 
me.” 

Then the head of the bear was cut off 
and laid on one of the best mats. It was 
decorated with all the jewellery owned by 
the family. There were silver armlets and 
bracelets, as well as belts and necklaces 
of wampum; which, as you know, is the 
Indian name for beads made of shells. 
Tobacco was placed in front of its head, 
while each one in turn lighted a pipe and 


44 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

blew the smoke into the bear’s nostrils 
This was to turn away its anger from those 
who had killed it. Black Cloud then made 
a speech to the bear. 

I suppose these people believed that the 
spirit of some human being had come to 
live in the animal’s body, and they looked 
upon it as a friend whom they were forced 
to kill. 

After all this ceremony, the fat of the 
bear was boiled down to oil, the meat was 
cut up and dried for future use, while the 
head was put into the pot to cook for dinner. 
I do not doubt that when the bear stew 
was served, Yellow Thunder did not give 
a single thought to the idea of eating a 
friend. He had done his duty in asking 
its forgiveness, and that was enough. 


CHAPTER VII. 

His Schooling. 

What kind of a school does Yellow 
Thunder attend ? It is a very large one. 
It covers the forests, the rivers, and the 
lakes. And who is his teacher ? The very 
same one who gives so many lessons to 
another little cousin of yours, about whom 
I have written a book. He is called Anahei, 
and lives in the hot land of Borneo, so far 
away. Dame Nature is her name. She is 
usually loving and kind, but sometimes she 
shows her anger in the storms and winds 
which rage about our little cousins. 

The lessons which Yellow Thunder learns 
are very different from those given Anahei, 
for they live in vastly different climates. 

45 


46 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

Anahei, as you will remember, if you have 
read my book about him, is near the equator, 
while Yellow Thunder lives in the temperate 
lands. He learns from the ice and the snow, 
he sees different animals, plants, and trees. 

Lie is quicker, stronger, and brighter than 
Anahei, for the cold winters make him so. 
His eyes are very sharp, his ears will hear 
sounds that yours would not notice, his feet 
can travel many miles without his having a 
thought of being tired. 

He has no compass, and yet he can 
journey in the forest in any direction he 
may choose without losing his way. How 
does he do it ? He has learned to notice 
that the tops of the pine-trees generally 
lean toward the rising sun. He has dis¬ 
covered that moss grows toward the roots 
of the trees on their north side, while the 
largest branches of trees are usually found 
on the south side of their trunks. 


HIS SCHOOLING. 


47 

In fact, Yellow Thunder has learned so 
many of Nature’s secrets that, if he should 
reveal them all, they would fill many books. 

This cousin of yours knows nothing about 
writing as you understand it. He puts all 
his stories into pictures. He could send 
you a letter with two or three pictures, 
telling a long, long story, but I don’t be¬ 
lieve you could understand one-quarter of 
it. His little Indian friends would be able 
to read it all at a glance. 

Their eyes are well trained, although they 
know nothing about your alphabet, and 
could not read a word of your handwriting. 

Black Cloud often finds a picture hanging 
to the bark of some tree while he is hunting. 
It is better than any guide-post such as 
we make, because it will tell him so much. 
He will know from it that other red men 
have journeyed this way, and what kind 
0 f experience they had. Perhaps it will warn 


48 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

him of danger, or explain to him the best 
direction to go if he wishes to find more game. 

You may like to see such a picture. I 
will copy one which Mr. Henry Rowe School¬ 
craft saw while he was living among the 
Indians. He was exploring the country 
with a party of white men and two Indian 
guides^ They lost their way during the 
day and camped out all night in a deep 
forest. Before they went away on the next 
morning, the Indian guides hung a picture 
on a tree. 

They thought it might be of use to others 
passing there. 

Figure I. is the officer who commanded 
the party. You may know this because he 
carries a sword. II. has a book in his hand. 
This shows he is the secretary. III. carries 
a hammer, because he is a geologist. IV. 
and V. are attendants. VI. is the man 
who interprets to the party the words of 


HIS SCHOOLING, 


49 

the Indian guides. The group of eight 
figures marked IX. consists of soldiers. Their 
muskets stand in the corner, and are marked 
X. VII. and VIII. are the two Indian 



guides. You will notice that they are drawn 
with no hats, which shows at once that 
they are not white men. XIII., XIV., and 
XV. represent fires, showing that each 
separate group—officers, soldiers, and In- 

D 











50 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

dian guides—had a separate one. Figures 
XI. and XII. are the pictures of a prairie- 
hen and a tortoise, which were the only 
game they had been able to kill that day. 
The pole to which the piece of bark was 
fastened leaned in the direction which the 
party was going to travel. There were 
three notches in the pole to show the dis¬ 
tance they had already journeyed. 

Yellow Thunder learns to read these bark 
pictures, and also to make them himself. 
He enjoys this work very much, and can 
tell a long story quickly. If I were you, 
I would write him a letter and ask him 
to answer it in his own way. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

His Work. 

This cousin of yours has many things to 
keep him busy. I have already told you 
of the mats and baskets which he helps 
his mother in making. He goes with her 
to get the bark which she will use in mending 
the wigwam and making many useful things. 

He makes barrels out of red elm bark, 
in which to store nuts, corn, and beans. 
Pie cuts ladles out of wood, which the 
family will use in eating their soup and 
ground Indian corn. On the end of each 
ladle Yellow Thunder carves the figure of 
some animal. Perhaps it is a beaver or a 
squirrel. He does it very neatly. What¬ 
ever the Indian boy does, he does well. 


51 


52 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

Yellow Thunder makes sieve-baskets out 
of thin pieces of wood. His mother can 
sift the corn-meal through one of these as 
nicely as your mamma can do it with her 
wire sieve. 

He makes salt-bottles out of corn-husks, 
wooden bowls and pitchers, and many other 
things for the simple housekeeping. All this 
work is done during the cold winter months, 
while his mother is making moccasins and 
kilts for his father and himself. 

When spring opens, she must till the 
ground for her corn, and Yellow Thunder 
can now be of great help. She will miss 
him greatly when he begins to hunt with 
his father. She will then have all this work 
to do alone. 

I wish you could see the Indian woman’s 
garden. It is kept so carefully, I don’t be¬ 
lieve you would be able to find a weed. 
Yellow Thunder’s mother did a queer thing 


HIS WORK. 


53 

the first night after it was planted. She 
stole out of the wigwam alone into the 
darkness. She went behind a bush, and 
took off all her clothing. Taking her skirt 
in her hand, she ran swiftly around the 
field of corn, dragging the garment after 
her. She believed this would keep away 
all insects which might destroy the crop, 
and that now it would be sure to yield well. 
For what a sad thing it would be if winter 
should come with no bread to eat through 
the long months ! 

Yellow Thunder is very fond of the bread 
his mother makes. The ear of corn is 
first boiled in ashes and water. The 
tough skin will now slip off easily. After 
being washed and dried, it is pounded in 
a mortar into flour. Then it is sifted and 
made into cakes about an inch thick. These 
cakes are dropped into boiling water, and 
are quickly made ready for our red cousin 


54 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

to eat. Since he was a baby, he has lived 
almost entirely on bread, together with the 
game and fish which his father brings home. 

Yellow Thunder eats something on his corn 
cakes which you would like as much as he 
does himself. It is maple syrup. The sugar 
which his mother makes from it is the only 
kind he has ever tasted in his life. It is 
his work to tap the trees in the spring, and 
bring home the jars of sap, which his mother 
will boil down to syrup and sugar. 

When her husband goes out on a long 
hunt, he must take food with him, as it 
may be a long time before he gets any game. 
He cannot carry the boiled corn cakes, as 
they would soon crumble and grow sour. 
His good wife roasts some corn until it is 
quite dry. She pounds it into powder and 
mixes it with maple sugar. It is packed 
away in Black Cloud’s bearskin pocket. 
He need not worry about hunger now, even 


HIS WORK. 


55 


if he is away from home many days. He 
has everything he needs to keep hunger 
away. 

Yellow Thunder is very proud of the 
beautiful canoe he has just finished. He 
had to search a long time before he was 
able to find a tree which suited him. He 
wanted to make his canoe of birch bark, 
because it is much lighter than the bark of 
the elm-tree, of which his father’s boat is made. 

He needed a strip of at least twelve feet 
long, because the canoe must be made of 
one piece. Two of his boy friends went 
with him, and they at last obtained a strip 
which was just right. They helped him 
bend it into shape, until the side pieces 
came together in two pointed ends. How 
do you suppose they fastened the edges 
together ? They made thread out of the 
bark itself, and with this Yellow Thunder 
sewed the pieces together. 


56 


THE LITTLE INDIAN. 


He next got strips of white ash for the 
rim of his canoe, because the wood of that 
tree is very elastic. The boat must be 
made stronger still with ribs of the ash, and 
the work is done. 

The canoe is a little beauty. It is so 
light that the red boy can lift it out of the 
water and carry it with the greatest ease 
from place to place. I wish you could see 
him as he shoots down the river in his boat. 
He moves so rapidly, he will be out of sight 
in a few minutes. 

The Indians of the north-western part of 
America used to make their canoes of 
cedar logs. The cedar trees there grow so 
large that canoes eighty feet long, and large 
enough to hold one hundred men, were 
made of a single piece. One was exhibited 
at the Columbian Exhibition at Chicago. 
It was twelve feet wide. 



t e 


»* 


The Little Indian'] 


HE SHOOTS 


DOWN THE RIVER 


[Page 56 































CHAPTER IX. 


Bows and Arrows and Beavers. 
Yellow Thunder has taken his bow and 

i 

arrows with him to-day, as he may come 
upon a flock of wild ducks. He would like 
to surprise his mother with some birds for 
supper. 

He can shoot well. He will not fail to 
secure some game. He has practised archery 
ever since he was a tiny little fellow. He 
would feel himself disgraced for ever if he 
should disappoint his father when they go 
out to hunt. 

I can't tell you how many bows and 
arrows he has already made in his lifetime. 
He has now grown so large and strong that 

57 


58 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

he uses a bow three and a half feet long. 
It has such a difficult spring, that I fear 
you could not bend it far, but Yellow Thun¬ 
der can set his arrow to the head with ease. 
But it takes skill and great strength to do it. 

Perhaps you wonder why the arrow is 
feathered at the end. This will make it go 
straight ahead in the direction in which 
it is sent. Sometimes Yellow Thunder uses 
arrow-heads cut out of flint. They are 
dangerous things, and will kill deer and 
even men. Indians have often been known 
to place poison on the arrow-heads they 
used in warfare. The agonies of the men 
who were shot by them were terrible indeed. 

Black Cloud has not been to war since 
Yellow Thunder was born. There are so 
few of the red race now, and the numbers 
of the white men are so great, that there 
is not much chance of warfare. 

However, many stories are told in Black 


BOWS AND ARROWS AND BEAVERS. 59 

Cloud’s lodge of the good old days when 
the war-whoop was commonly heard, and 
the tomahawk and scalping-knife were in 
constant use. Yellow Thunder often passes 
by the grave of a great Indian chief, and 
thinks about that hero’s bravery in battle. 
This grave is reverently marked and care¬ 
fully fenced in. The boy wishes he had a 
chance to leave such a memory. 

At the head of the grave there is a stick 
with the figure of a wolf carved upon it. 
It is the symbol, or “ totem ” of the chief’s 
tribe. If the tribe is called after a wolf, 
then the tribe’s totem is the picture of a 
wolf. If the tribe is called after a bird, 
then the totem is a picture of that particular 
bird, and so on. Below the wolf there are 
many strokes of red paint, which Yellow 
Thunder likes to count, for each stroke 
tells of a scalp taken in warfare. 

Not many miles up the river above Yellow 


60 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

Thunder’s home, beavers are hunted. Black 
Cloud likes to catch them, because their 
flesh is good to eat, and the skin is covered 
with fine fur. Last winter he allowed his 
son to go with himself and a party of men 
to hunt for this clever little creature. 

Yellow Thunder believes that the beavers 
were once people and able to speak like 
himself. But they were too wise, so the 
Great Spirit took away this power and 
changed them into these animals. 

I wonder if you have ever seen a beaver’s 
house. He usually makes it of the young 
wood of birch or pine trees, and builds it 
a short way out in the river, so that it is 
surrounded by water. He shows a great 
deal of skill in making his home. It has 
a roof shaped like a dome. It reaches three 
or four feet above the surface of the water. 

There are generally only two young 
beavers in the family. The first year they 


BOWS AND ARROWS AND BEAVERS. 61 

live with their parents. The second year 
they have a room built next to the main 
house for their special use. By this time 
they are old enough to help their father and 
mother to get food. They eat great quantities 
of roots and wood, but they like the wood 
of the birch and poplar trees best of all 
When the young beavers are two years 
old, they leave their old home, and choose 
a new place in which to build houses for 
themselves. Once in a great while, hunters 
find beavers that the Indians call “ old 
bachelors.” This is because they live alone, 
build no houses, but make their homes in 
holes they find, or dig out for themselves. * 
The beaver always makes holes in the 
banks of the river near his house. The 
entrance to such a hole is below the surface 
of the water, so that if the beaver is at¬ 
tacked in his house, he can flee for safety 
to his hiding-place in the bank. 


CHAPTER X. 

A Beaver Hunt. 

Now let us return to Yellow Thunder 
and his beaver hunt. It was a bitter cold 
day, and the river was frozen over in some 
places, but that would be so much the 
better if the hunters hoped to secure 
their game. They journeyed by the river¬ 
side for several miles. There was a heavy 
fall of snow, but they moved along quickly 
with the help of their snow-shoes, till one 
of the men whispered : “ I see it. Stop ! ” 
Sure enough ! A few feet away from them 
and from the bank rose the roof of a dam 
above the ice. One of the men tried the ice 
and found it was thick enough to bear them 
Yellow Thunder was told to remain where 

62 


A BEAVER HUNT. 63 

he was on the bank, while the rest of the 
party took heavy tools in their hands and 
went over to the beaver’s house. They 
quickly destroyed it. But the beavers ? 
What had become of them ? They did 
not stay in their house to have it broken 
down over their heads. They were too 
wise. When the first alarm was given, they 
hurried through the water, under the icy 
covering of the river, to a hiding-place in 
the bank. They had made it long ago to 
be ready in case of danger. 

Would the Indians succeed in finding 
them ? Remember that nothing could be 
seen to show where the beavers had gone. 
The hunters crept along the ice on the edges 
of the river, and kept striking it with their 
mallets. If they should hear a hollow sound 
as they struck the ice, they would know they 
had discovered the beaver’s hiding-place. 

Ah ! sure enough ! It is Yellow Thunder 


64 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

himself who says : “ Quick, father, come 
here ; I have found it. I know this is a 
hole because of the noise the water makes 
underneath. Beavers are breathing there, 
or it would not move so quickly.” 

Black Cloud hurries to the spot and the 
ice is cracked in an instant. Yes, his son 
is right. A family of beavers is inside the 
hole. They must be taken quickly, or they 
will escape. There is but one way to do 
it. The hunter must reach his hands into 
the hole and pull the animals out. Their 
teeth are very sharp, and they will do their 
best to bite him, but Black Cloud does not 
think of that. He is quickly at work and 
pulls out one after another. 

There are four beavers in all—two old 
ones and their young about two years of 
of age. They are soon killed and ready to 
be skinned. How beautiful and glossy the 
fur is! It is at its verv best in midwinter. 





* ‘ HIS WIFE IS STANDING IN THE DOOR OF THE WIGWAM.” 

rhe Little Indian 1 \Pace 65 











A BEAVER HUNT. 65 

This has been a fine day’s sport, and 
Black Cloud has received only one bad bite 
in his wrist. It must cause him a good 
deal of pain, yet he does not show that he 
feels any. He binds up his wrist, and 
nothing is said about it. 

When they reach home Yellow Thunder’s 
mamma will take the tails of the beavers 
and put them in the pot to boil. The In¬ 
dians think they‘are a great delicacy. They 
will make a feast, to which Black Cloud 
has gone to invite his friends. 

His wife is standing in the door of the 
wigwam, waiting for the return of her hus¬ 
band and son. She has dressed herself 
with great care to-day, and has a really 
beautiful costume. Just imagine your 
mamma in a dress like hers. She wears 
long leggings of red cloth reaching from 
above her knees down over her moccasins. 
They are worked with beads around the edges. 

E 


66 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

A long time ago the Indian women made 
their clothing of deerskins and embroidered 
them with porcupine quills, but nowadays 
they buy cloth and beads of the white 
traders in exchange for furs. 

Over the woman’s leggings a long blue 
skirt reaches from her waist nearly to the 
ground. This, also, is embroidered with 
beads in a flower pattern. And last, but 
not least, she wears a bright calico over¬ 
dress which reaches from her throat to a 
short distance below her waist, is also beaded, 
and is gathered in at the belt. 

I must not forget to mention her glass neck¬ 
lace, large silver earrings, and the shoulder 
ornaments of woven grass and beadwork. 

She is a graceful woman, and it is pleasant 
to look at her with the sunset light upon 
her black hair and eves. 


CHAPTER XL 

The Indian Doctor. 

When the little boy was six years old he 

was very sick. His cheeks burned with 

fever. He could not lift his head from the 

mat on which he lay. His dear mamma 

scarcely left his side through the long hours 

of the day. She tried to soothe him with 

low, sweet songs, but it was in vain. The 

fever grew stronger and fiercer. Black 

Cloud came home at night. Looking at 

his little son, he said, “ The medicine-man 

must come. He will cure him.” 

The medicine-man was at once sent for. 

He is a very important person among the 

Indians. He is considered very wise. He 

67 


68 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

is thought to have wonderful dreams and 
to get instruction from the Great Spirit. 
The red people think he can cure sickness, 
unless it is the will of the Great Spirit for 
the patient to die. 

The medicine-man always carries a bag 
of charms to help him in making his cures. 
I do not doubt you would laugh at the 
collection in the bag, if you had a chance 
to peep in, but no good Indian has a thought 
of doing such a thing. It is believed to be 
holy, and nothing inside should be looked 
upon except as the medicine-man draws it 
out to work his cures. 

There are medicines, the carved figures 
of different animals, the bones of others, 
and I don’t know how many other queer 
things. 

Poor Little Yellow Thunder looked up 
with delight as the great man entered the 
hut. He believed that he would soon be 


THE INDIAN DOCTOR. 69 

well and ready to work and play once 
more. 

The medicine-man ordered first that a 
dog be sacrificed. Next, that the family 
prepare a great feast for themselves. These 
things would help to satisfy the Great Spirit 
and turn away his anger. But this was not 
all. He took out a rattle from his bag. 
It was made of the dried hoofs of deer fas¬ 
tened to a stick. He began to sing, beating 
time with his rattle and striking himself 
violent blows. The singing grew louder and 
louder. The rattle made a fearful din. 

How did our poor sick cousin stand it ? 
I’m sure I can’t tell. The little fellow lay 
with closed eyes and hardly moved. This 
queer doctor at length stopped his song and 
got ready to go away. He told Yellow 
Thunder’s papa that his son would be sure 
to get well. And you know already from 
my story that our red cousin did get over 


THE LITTLE INDIAN. 


7 o 

his sickness, and grew to be a big, strong 
boy. Whether the treatment he got was 
any help, or whether Mother Nature did 
all the work, I leave you to decide for your¬ 
selves. I have my own opinion on the 
matter. 

Yellow Thunder is very fond of music. 
I wonder what he would think of a church 
organ or grand piano. His own instruments 
are very simple. He made them himself. 
He has a tambourine on which he often 
plays in the evening while other children 
dance. He cut a section of wood from a 
hollow tree and stretched a skin over it, 
and his instrument was made. 

He also has a flute. It was a little more 
work for the red boy to make this. He 
carved two pieces of cedar in the shape of 
half cylinders, and fastened them together 
with fish glue. He next hunted about in 
the woods for a snake. After he had found 


THE INDIAN DOCTOR. 71 

one and killed it, he took off the skin and 
stretched it over the wood. Eight holes 
were then made in the instrument, as well 
as a mouthpiece like that of a flageolet. 

When Yellow Thunder blows upon this 
flute, it makes soft and sweet music. It lay 
by his side when he was sick with the fever, 
and as soon as he was strong enough to 
sit up, he amused himself by playing some 
simple tunes his mamma had taught him. 


CHAPTER XII. 

Dances—War, and Otherwise. 

Our little friend is very fond of dancing. 
His people have so many dances that I 
shall have to tell you about some of them. 

They believe the Great Spirit gave them 
the gift of dancing. They have a Dance 
for the Dead, a Medicine Dance, the War- 
dance, the Dance of Honour, and I don’t 
know how many others. In some of them 
only men take part, and they have special 
costumes, while in others there are none 
but women. It seems as though there were 
always something happening among the 
Indians to give them a good reason to 
dance. 


72 


DANCES—WAR, AND OTHERWISE. 73 

The War-dance is only performed in the 
evening, and always on some important 
occasion. 

Fifteen or twenty men are usually chosen, 
one of whom must be the leader. All appear 
in costume and wear knee rattles of deer’s 
hoofs. When the time draws near, the 
people gather in the council-house and wait 
quietly for the dancers to arrive. A keeper- 
of-the-faith rises and makes a short speech 
on the meaning of the dance. Hark ! The 
war-whoop sounds outside ! It is heard 
again, and still again. The band is drawing 
near. Ah ! here they come at last. 

To our eyes they look hideous in their 
war-paint and feathers, but to the crowd 
of eager Indians who are waiting, they 
appear very fair indeed. 

They march in and form a circle. The 
war-whoop is sounded again by the leader, 
and answered by the rest of the dancers. 


74 


THE LITTLE INDIAN. 


At a given sign, the singers commence the 
war-song, the drums beat, and the dancers 
begin to move. They come down on 
their heels again and again with the 
greatest force, keeping time to the 
beating of the drums. The knee rattles 
make noise enough of themselves. The din 
is fearful. 

The dancers change their positions con¬ 
tinually. At the same moment you will 
see some of them with their arms raised as 
though to attack, others in the act of draw¬ 
ing the bow, others again appear to be 
throwing the tomahawk, or striking with 
the war-club. Every position possible in 
battle is taken. 

Each one is full of the excitement of the 
moment. The wild music and dancing last 
for about two minutes. For the next two 
minutes the dancers walk around in a circle 
to the slow beating of the drums. Then 


DANCES— WAR, AND OTHERWISE. 7; 

there is another war-whoop, which is fol¬ 
lowed by another dance and song. 

The dance is often stopped by a tap upon 
the ground by one of the audience. He 
wishes to make a short speech. It, maybe, 
is a funny one to make everybody laugh. Or 
perhaps the speaker wishes to inspire the 
people to nobler lives or to greater love 
for their race. He can say anything he 
chooses, on condition that at the end of 
the speech he makes a present to one of 
the dancers. This speech gives the dancers 
a chance to rest, and at the same time keeps 
the people interested. 

The evening is full of entertainment, and 
passes only too quickly. I’m afraid, how¬ 
ever, if you were present you would be 
more frightened than amused by such wild 
music and motions. 

Another strange dance which is performed 
among Yellow Thunder’s people is called the 


76 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

Dance for the Dead. Only women take 

f 

part in it. It is generally given every 
spring and fall, in honour of those of the 
tribe who have died. The Indians believe 
that at these times their dead friends come 
back and join in the dance. 

The music is sad, and the movements of 
the dancers are slow and mournful. This 
strange dance is kept up from dusk till the 
early morning. It is believed that the dead 
friends who have been present must then 
go back to the happy hunting-grounds. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Playtime. 

I haven’t said very much as yet about 
our red cousin’s playmates and sports. 
They have many good times together. They 
have a great number of games and many 
matches of strength and quickness. 

Yellow Thunder loves his ball game as 
much as you boys love cricket and football. 
He and his friends often prepare for a game 
by a special diet and training for days be¬ 
forehand. Crowds gather from neighbour¬ 
ing tribes and villages to see the sport. 
Those who take part wear no clothing except 
a waist-cloth. The ball is small and is 
made of deerskin. 


77 


78 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

A large open field is chosen, and two 
gates are made on opposite sides of it. Each 
gate is made by setting two poles three 
rods apart. Six or eight boys play on a 
side and own one of the gates. The game 
is won by the side which first carries the 
ball through its own gate a certain number 
of times. The white men learned this game 
from the Indians, and it is a great favourite 
with them in some parts of the country, 
especially in Canada. It is now called 
“ lacrosse,” but its name in the language 
of the Iroquois Indians was O-ta-da-jish- 
qua-age. 

Black Cloud has as much interest as 
Yellow Thunder in the game, and often 
takes part in it with his friends. You can 
hardly believe how excited these red men 
get when they are preparing for a set game 
of ball. 

The javelin game is another of the boy’s 



PLAYTIME. 


79 


favourites. It is quite simple, and yet one 
needs to be very skilful. Rings about eight 
inches across, and javelins five or six feet 
long, are needed in playing it. While a 
ring is set rolling upon the ground by one 
person, a player on the other side throws 
the javelin and tries to hit it. If he succeed, 
the ring is set up as a target, and each one 
on the opposite side must throw a javelin 
and try to hit it. If he fail, he loses his 
javelin. Victory belongs to the side which 
wins the most javelins. 

The favourite game in winter is that of 
snow snakes. The snakes are made of 
hickory. They are from five to seven feet 
long. The head of the snake is round and 
pointed with lead. It is about an inch 
wide and slightly turned up. The snake 
is made so that it tapers toward the tail, 
which is only about half an inch wide. 

Yellow Thunder has practised so much 


8o THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

that he can throw his snake with great 
skill. It skims along the snow crust like 
an arrow. He has won many a game this 
winter, and his father is very proud of him, 
because it takes a great deal of strength 
and training to be a good player. 

There are many other games played by 
the Indian men and boys, but I shall have 
to tell you about them some other time. 

I hear one of my little friends say : “ I 
wonder if my red cousin has any holidays. 
He certainly cannot understand Easter or 
Whitsuntide, and I don’t believe he ever 
heard of Christmas. How does he get 
along ? ” 

Why, my dear children, I can’t stop to 
tell you of all the feasts and festivals to 
which the boy is invited. On every pos¬ 
sible occasion a feast is given by some one 
in the village. For instance, if the men 
are very successful in one of their hunts, 


PLAYTIME. 81 

and come home laden down with a good 
supply of deer, raccoon, or bear, some one 
of them prepares a feast. You know what 
deer and bears are like, don’t you ? Well, 
the raccoon is an animal something like a bear, 
but much smaller. It has a big tail and a 
pointed head, something like those of a fox. 

How you would laugh to see them gather¬ 
ing at a party. Each one carries his own 
wooden bowl and plate, for that is the cus¬ 
tom. I mean that each man does this, for 
the women are not expected to sit down. 
They only stand around and laugh at the 
bright sayings they hear. They must not 
even join in the conversation. They seem 
to think that they are having a good time, 
however, and when the feast is over to go 
back to their own wigwams, repeating to 
each other the good things they have heard. 
The men remain to smoke and tell more 
stories. 


F 


82 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

Sometimes a feast is prepared on purpose 
for the young people. At such a time 
someone who is much older than them¬ 
selves makes a speech. He encourages his 
young friends to be nobler, braver, and 
better than ever before. It seems as though 
Yellow Thunder could never forget the good 
words he has heard at these feasts. When¬ 
ever he feels like showing pain or being ill- 
tempered, he recollects them, and they help 
to keep him calm. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Festivals. 

Each season of the year has its special 
festival. The longest of all is the new 
year jubilee, which lasts seven days. It 

takes place in the middle of the winter, 

/ 

about the first of February. Several days 
before the beginning of the celebration, our 
little cousin gathers with his people in the 
council-hall. They must confess their sins 
to each other before the new year opens. 
Yellow Thunder thinks over everything 
which he has done, or not done as he ought, 
during the past year. He does not wish to 
forget anything. 

When the great day arrives, two keepers- 

83 


84 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

of-the-faith come to his home early in the 
morning. It is their duty to go to every 
other wigwam, too. They are dressed up 
in such a way that Yellow Thunder cannot 
tell who they are. They wear bear or 
buffalo skins wrapped around their bodies, 
and fastened about their heads with wreaths 
of corn husks. They also wear wreaths of 
corn husks around their arms and ankles. 
Their faces are painted in all sorts of queer 
ways. They carry corn pounders in their 
hands. 

As they enter the hut they bow to the 
family, and one of them strikes the ground 
with his corn pounder. When everyone is 
silent, he makes a speech, urging them to 
clean their house, put everything in order, 
and prepare for the festivities of the next 
few days. If anyone in the family should 
be taken sick and die, he urges them not 
to mourn till the ceremonies which the 


FESTIVALS. 85 

Great Spirit has commanded are over: You 
can see from this that the Indian’s religion 
is carried into everything he does. 

After a song of thanksgiving, the keepers- 
of-the-faith leave Yellow Thunder’s home 
and pass on to the next one. In the after¬ 
noon they come back again, and urge the 
family to give thanks to the Great Spirit 
for the return of the season. 

The little boy is most excited on this 
first day of the festival by the strangling 
of the White Dog. It must be spotless, 
if possible. White is the emblem of purity 
and faith. A white deer or squirrel, or any 
other animal that is pure white, is thought 
to be sacred to the Great Spirit. 

The dog, which has been carefully kept 
for this purpose, is killed with the greatest 
care. Otherwise it would not be a fitting 
sacrifice. Not a drop of blood must be 
shed. Not a bone must be broken. When 


86 


THE LITTLE INDIAN. 


it is quite dead, it is trimmed with ribbons 
and feathers, and spotted in different places 
with dabs of red paint. Then it is hung 
up by its neck on a pole. It must stay 
there till the fifth day. At that time it will 
be taken down to be burned. 

On the second day, Yellow Thunder is 
dressed up in his very best, and goes out 
with his father and mother to make calls on 
his neighbours. The keepers-of-the-faith 
come to his house three times during the 
day. They are now dressed up as warriors 
with all their war-paint and feathers. One 
of them stirs up the ashes in the fireplace 
and sprinkles them about. As he does this, 
he makes a speech, thanking the Great 
Spirit that the family, as well as himself* 
have been allowed to live another year to 
take part in the festival. There is another 
song of thanksgiving and they go away. 

On the third and fourth days small 





















(t THEY o . . DANCED IN EVERY HUT IN THE VILLAGE.” 

The Little Indian ] [Page 87 















FESTIVALS. 87 

dancing parties go from home to home. 
One party will perform the war-dance, 
another the feather-dance, still another the 
fish-dance, and so on. This year Yellow 
Thunder’s father let him join a party of 
boys to give the war-dance. They had 
great iv dressing up as warriors and deck¬ 
ing themselves with paint and feathers. 
They went from home to home till they 
had danced in every hut in the village. They 
were tired enough to sleep soundly when 
night came. 

I must tell you of some more sport they 
had during the festival. Some of the boys 
dressed in rags and paint, put on false faces, 
and formed a “ thieving party,” as it was 
called. They went about collecting things 
for a feast. An old woman carrying a large 
basket went with them. If the family they 
visited made them presents, they handed 
them to the old woman and gave a dance 


88 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

in return for the kindness. But if no pre¬ 
sents were given, they took anything they 
could seize without being seen. If they 
were discovered, they gave them up, but 
if not, it was considered fair for them to 
carry the things away for their feast. 

Yellow Thunder had great fun hiding the 
stolen articles in his clothing. He was not 
once caught. 

Every night was given up to dancing and 
other entertainments. Our Indian cousin 
got time for a game of snow snakes nearly 
every day. 

On the morning of the fifth day the White 
Dog was burned. A procession was formed, 
the men marching in Indian file. Listen ! 
A great sound is heard. It is something 
like the war-whoop. It is the signal to 
start. The dead dog is carried to the altar 
on a bark litter in front of the procession. 
The sacrifice is laid upon the altar. The 


FESTIVALS. 89 

fire is kindled. As the flames rise, a prayer 
is made to the Great Spirit for all his good 
gifts to the Indians. The trees and the 
bushes, the sun and the winds, the moon 
and the stars—none are forgotten that 
have helped to make the world better to 
live in. 

As the sacrifice burns upon the altar, 
Yellow Thunder listens to the long prayer 
with reverence. He believes that the dog’s 
soul is now rising to the Great Spirit. It 
will be a proof to Him of the faith of His 
people, for the day itself is the day of faith 
and trust 

During the rest of the festival there is 
more dancing and more feasting, while 
favourite games are played by old and 
young. 

“ Oh, what a good time it is,” thinks 
Yellow Thunder ; “ how happy we all should 
be that the new year has come.” And 


90 


THE LITTLE INDIAN. 


what a tired boy sleeps on Yellow Thun¬ 
der’s mat when the seven days of this 
glorious time are over. The Fifth of 
November celebration is slight indeed 
compared with it. 

Yellow Thunder begins already to look 
forward to the first festival of the spring¬ 
time. It is called by the Indians “ Thanks 
to the Maple.” I don’t dare to give it to 
you in their own language. You would 
only scowl and say, “ Oh dear ! what’s the 
use ? I can’t pronounce those long words, 
and I will not try.” 

Just as soon as the first warm days arrive, 
the red boy’s eyes begin to watch the maple- 
trees. He wishes to be the first one to 
discover that the sap has started and is 
beginning to flow. Then hurrah for a 
holiday for old and young ! Thanks must 
be given to the tree that gives so much 
sweetness to boys and girls. The Great 


FESTIVALS. 


9i 


Spirit must be thanked, also, for he gave 
the maple to the poor Indian. 

There must be more feasting and story¬ 
telling, more games and dancing. Tobacco 
must be burned as an offering to the Great 
Spirit, and prayers must be said. The great 
feather dance will be the best thing of all. 
It is very graceful and beautiful, and the 
band of dancers will wear costumes which 
belong only to this dance. 

You certainly cannot wonder that Yellow 
Thunder enjoys this festival. I don’t doubt 
you would like to be there, also, as well as 
at the green corn feast, and many others. 

At these times your red cousin’s heart is 
full of gladness and gratitude for the great 
gifts the Great Spirit has given him. 

It is evening time. Let us creep up softly 
behind him as he listens to a legend one of 
the story-tellers of the tribe is repeating. 
It is the tale of the Lone Lightning. 


CHAPTER XV. 

The Tale of Lone Lightning. 

Once upon a time there was a poor little 
boy who had no father or mother. He lived 
with an uncle who did not love him. This 
cruel man made the child do many hard 
things and did not give him enough to 
eat. Of course the child did not grow 
properly. He was very thin and pitiful 
to look upon. After awhile the cruel uncle 
grew ashamed of the appearance of the 
boy. Everyone could see that he was 
ill-treated. 

He said to himself, “ I will give the child 
so much to eat that he will die. I hate 
him ! ” Then he went to his wife and said, 

92 


THE TALE OF LONE LIGHTNING. 93 

“ Give the boy bear’s meat, and choose the 
fat of it for him.” 

They kept cramming the child. When 
they were stuffing the food down his throat 
one day, he almost choked. Poor little 
fellow ! There was no one who cared for 
him or wished him to live. He knew it 
only too well. 

The first chance he obtained, he ran away. 
He did not know where to go, but wan¬ 
dered around in the forest. Night came. 
Wild beasts would now begin to roam about. 
They would get him and eat him. The 
little boy was afraid when he thought of 
all this. He climbed up in a tree as far 
as he dared, and went to sleep in a fork 
of the branches. He had a wonderful dream. 
It was an omen given to him by the spirits. 

It seemed as though someone appeared 
to him from out of the sky. He spoke to 
the orphan, and said, “ Poor child, I know 


94 THE LITTLE INDIAN. 

all about your hard life and your cruel 
uncle. Come with me.” 

The boy awoke instantly. There was his 
guide. He began to follow him. Higher 
and higher he rose up in the air till they 
were both in the upper sky. Then his 
guide placed twelve arrows in his hands 
and told him that there were many bad 
manitos (spirits) in the northern sky. He 
must go forth and try to shoot them. 

He did as he was told. He travelled 
toward the north and shot one arrow after 
another, vainly trying to kill the manitos. 
He now had only one arrow left. As each 
one had sped forth from his bow, there 
had been a long streak of lightning in the 
sky. Then all had grown clear again. 

The boy held the last arrow in his hand 
for a long time and tried again to discover 
the manitos. But these beings are very 
cunning if they choose, and they can change 


THE TALE OF LONE LIGHTNING. 95 

their forms at any moment. They were 
afraid of the boy’s arrows, for these had 
magic powers and had been given him by 
a good spirit. If the child aimed them 
straight, the bad manitos would be killed. 

At length the boy gained courage and 
shot his last arrow. He thought it was 
aimed at the very heart of the chief of the 
spirits. But before it reached him, he had 
changed himself into a rock. The head of 
the arrow pierced this rock and fastened 
itself within it. 

The manito was enraged. He cried out, 
0 Your arrows are gone now. You shall be 
punished for daring to strike at me.” As 
he said these words, he changed the boy 
into the Lone Lightning, which is still seen 
in the northern sky to this day. 

THE END, 


Ward, Lock & Co., Ltd., London, New York, & Melbourne. 






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